In Which I Wonder If There's Actually a Place for What I Write, But Also Hope (And Kinda, Sorta Believe) There Is

Remember that cozy mystery I was writing in June? Well, believe it or not given the record of the last three years, I actually finished it. I finished a draft worth sharing around Labor Day and my original very optimistic goal was to have it query ready by Halloween. Well, crazily enough, my critique partners are not robots and have their own lives and writing and family obligations so I didn't get the first set of feedback back until early October. I then had another two people read it, who also have their own lives (the nerve of people not dedicating all their time to reading my manuscripts, I tell you 😂) so I didn't get that feedback back until early November. Hence, I was query ready not by Halloween but by Thanksgiving. It turns out there are fewer agents looking for cozy mysteries than looking for middle grade, plus a lot of agents close to queries the last month or two of the year, so I only sent out eight query letters for my first round. I did get a request within a couple days, which felt really good. Unfortunately it ended in a pass last week, but I think (hope) it's a good sign that I may have actually written something marketable this time. We'll see.

Perhaps because of my anxious ADHD brain that tends to catastrophize, however, part of me also wonders whether there's actually a place in traditional publishing (and no shade on those who self/indie publish, I just know how much work that is and have no interest in taking that route at least so far) for my writing, and particularly for this book. My writing has always been influenced by my Christian faith, and this book especially given that the main character is a pastor, but I never wanted to and still don't want to write for the faith based market. I know it's a big market and if that's your jam more power to you. But based on those I've read, way too often books written for the Christian market sacrifice craft in the name of getting a particular message across. Are there books in that market I enjoy? There are a few. There's a reason I pitched my mystery as Mitford with murder. But overall it's not for me, especially since the majority of the market is very Evangelical focused and I am absolutely, positively not an Evangelical at this stage in my life. To be fair, I also have a message I want to get across in my books, but the message is always secondary to the story. I write stories with hope. Stories in which the marginalized are valued and lifted up. Stories in which characters live well with invisibility disabilities but also struggle because sometimes it sucks. And while, as a Christian, I believe the hope for the world is centered on Jesus, I want my stories to be accessible and meaningful to people of all faiths and none.

Thoughts of this kind were in the back of my mind this week as I placed these nativity figures in my garden. Our family has a lot of nativity sets inside the house, and I was lamenting to my daughter that we don't have an outdoor nativity. She pointed out that we had one in the basement that should be hardy enough to survive outdoors and that's not super meaningful to us if it doesn't. So I took them from a spot in the basement where they were hardly seen anyway and put them in the front garden. They're by the lighthouse because Jesus is the light of the world. Either that or that was the best clear space for them. Probably both. Anyway, because I overthink everything, I was thinking about which nativity figure best symbolizes me. Definitely not Jesus. I mean, sure, I try to be like Jesus, but I miss the mark a large portion of the time. I don't think Mary and Joseph fit me well either. They're way too focused on the baby, and that's also not what I'm like most of the time. The wise men? They came from far away with really expensive gifts. Most of time I feel like what I have to give to Jesus is of little value. That just leaves the angel and the shepherd unless I want to delve into the animals. I'm definitely not a sinless messenger of light, so that leaves the shepherd. And, honestly, given his position in this setup, he's kinda perfect. He's standing back, holding a vulnerable lamb, looking toward the Christ Child, but not part of the crowd right up next to him. He heard the heavenly chorus. He kind of wants the baby to notice him. But also, he has a job to do. He needs to take care of this little lamb. Maybe it was orphaned. Maybe its mother rejected it. Or maybe its mother is at his feet and the little lamb just needed some extra love. Most of the time, I'm like the shepherd.  I'm not flashy like those sages from the east who didn't actually even show up for a couple years but somehow always barge into the nativity sets anyway. I'm not totally focused on Jesus like his mother and his earthly father. I'm very much of Earth so definitely not an angel. I'm just standing back, looking at Jesus, hoping he approves of me, trying my best to be faithful to the tasks I've been given and take care of those who need it most.

My hope is that, someday, my books will be on shelves, giving people stories with hope and love and faithfulness. Stories with queer joy and disabled joy. But also queer struggle and disabled struggle, because they intermingle in the real world.  Will that ever happen? No clue at this point, but in the meantime I'll do my best to keep the faith and keep taking care of the vulnerable lambs. 

In Which I Admit I May Only Be A Middle Grade Writer, And That's Okay

Remember my last post when I thought I had worked through my psychological turmoil and might actually be able to finish my contemporary romance? Well, all I have to say to that is, ha ha ha, joke's on me because I've added all of 3,000 words to that book since July. I love the idea of finishing that book, but I don't actually love that book. Maybe I'll finish it someday. It feels wrong to leave unfinished a project that's 25,000 words in. But I've given myself permission to do it. I just don't love writing outside the middle grade space, it turns out.

One of my friends in the #MGWaves is a writing craft nerd, and she offered to do an outline workshop with some of us. That gave me the impetus to dust off an idea I had almost a year ago. I even wrote a few chapters of that version of the idea, but I was trying to narrate it in the voice of Charles Dickens and, surprise surprise, that's actually really hard. I think I nailed the first chapter, but then when my critique group read the second chapter they wondered why Dickens wasn't narrating anymore. Could I have done more reading, gone through a million edits, and eventually gotten it right? Maybe. But in the end I found I just didn't have the ambition to attempt it.

So the Dickens inspired Christmas ghost story was tossed into the bin. But a skeleton of a winter ghost story with darkness and light, grief and joy, remained. So I gave it flesh. The ghost is now the MC's older sister. The first names have changed to match the theme. The family is much more fleshed out and much more flawed. Real wrong has been done to the vengeful ghosts.

Basically it's a whole lot better than the original idea. I still only have an outline (though a pretty detailed one thanks to my awesome friends) and character sketches, but it's something. 

And of course I made a new moodboard/aesthetic, because that's what I do. Here it is, in all its glory. Now let's see if I can actually make this thing into a completed manuscript. Whether that then makes it into a book is not up to me, as I have painfully learned, but finished manuscript is something I can control and I hope I can push past my hard feelings about querying the manuscript that would be "the one" for nearly two years now and get this story written. I think it has the potential to be something really beautiful. Maybe even better than Harbor Lightkeep. And that's saying a lot. Because I did not think I could beat a glucose alert fox.

In Which I Hang Onto a Teeny, Tiny, Gossamer Thread of Hope

It's Advent, the season of hope and waiting. I don't talk much about my faith on this blog, so, in case you didn't pick this up earlier, I'm a Christian. As a Christian, during this season of the year I celebrate the creator of the universe coming to Earth as a tiny, helpless, newborn baby. If that's not a miracle to be in awe of I don't know what is.

Even many who aren't traditionally religious think of this time of year as a season full of hope and potential miracles. Many people are hoping for a "Christmas miracle."

I'm not expecting a publishing Christmas miracle. Well, unless it's a certain Big 5 publisher settling the strike and actually listening to their employees (hint, hint HarperCollins). But I certainly wouldn't say no to it. I actually tweeted jokingly about my publishing Christmas wish last week and it went, well, not truly viral but at least viral-adjacent as opposed to most of my tweets that get 0-6 likes.

I'm still hanging onto a teeny, tiny thread of hope for my steampunk airship adventure. It's still in about 20 agent inboxes and until the last one passes there's hope that one of them will be the agent who falls in love with it. But the hope is pretty tenuous. The agent I thought was my best chance, who asked for a revision back in June, recently passed on the manuscript. She didn't like the direction I took the revision in. I guess it's better to find out now that we have different editorial visions than after I sign a contract, but it was still heartbreaking.

As if that wasn't enough, the full manuscript of my Nutcracker reimagining was with an editor who is normally only open to agented submissions thanks to a pitch contest like. Earlier this week she passed on it not because of weakness in the writing but because she just didn't think it was a perfect fit for her.

To be clear, I'm disappointed but I'm not angry with the agent or the editor. Agents spend a lot of time with client manuscripts and need to go through a long slog of pitching them to swamped editors. Editors devote a lot of time and effort to manuscripts they sign and it's not worth their time to work on a book they don't love. Yes, agents and editors receive manuscripts that are poorly written, but at least as often they have to pass on things that are well written and just don't light them on fire. Think about your own reading habits. You don't check out every single book in the library or buy every single book at the bookstore. Most of the books you pass up aren't bad. They're just not books you're currently excited about.

On the heels of two rejections I was pretty hopeful about, I was briefly ready to throw in the towel or just take a long break. It's been a year since I started querying my Steampunk book. I've spent the year doing a bunch of smaller tweaks and one major revision. I've lost count of the times I've tweaked my query and opening pages. According to all the advice out there I've done all the right things and should have been overrun with requests at least if not offers. My book has all kinds of things agents are supposed to be looking for. It has disability rep. It has queer rep. It has a diverse cast. It addresses climate change. It's a mystery to me why it hasn't gotten more full requests.

But I don't get to control what agents and editors think. I only get to control what I write. I tried to start writing something new this spring but I kept stopping and starting with it and never got very far. Only time will tell, but so far I'm much more excited about my new #WIP. I enjoy reading adult contemporary romance and I liked the idea of writing one, but it doesn't excite me the way middle grade does. Reading and writing middle grade lights me on fire in a way other types of books don't. Yes, I can appreciate books in other age groups. Someday I might even write one. But middle grade is where my heart is.

And when it comes down to it, that's why I'm not ready to give up on pursuing traditional publication. When I decided to get serious about writing again three years ago I knew it would be hard. I didn't know it would be "writing and querying three books over three years with three requests between them that all ended in rejection" hard. Some people would have been ready to quit well before this time. And there is nothing wrong with that. Your mental and emotional health is more important than reaching the elusive goal of getting a book traditionally published. 

There are moments when I feel like it might be time to quit. But when it comes down to it I'm not ready.  I've liked all the paid jobs I've had. This fall I started a part time job teaching a two year old preschool class and I might actually like that one best of all. But what really lights me on fire, what really makes me feel like I'm doing what I was created to do, is writing. Until I stop feeling that, I'm going to keep plodding up this mountain path of unknown length full of logs, rocks, and roots. I may stop for awhile and take a rest on one of the logs, but I'm not ready to head down the mountain just yet.